The Brown Couch
Velvety wide rows of velour the color of earth wrapped around round
spongy cushions (and I know it was the 70s but a brown corduroy
couch is such a cliché) that I loved the way a nun loves her cell, the
way a new mother loves the silence of a sleeping infant; a sweaty
scent, the odor of naps and snuggling with salt and vinegar potato
chips with Captain Kirk in the background, swaying with soft piano
music, probably Chopin but possibly Beethoven; a back-twisted Barbie
lodged under the cushions, the wide sturdy wood underpinning, the
unseen strength of structure holding up everyone who flopped down
in need of comfort.
—Siân Killingsworth
From Hiraeth, Longship Press, © Copyright 2024. Used with permission of the publisher. Photo by Rosemary Fields, Creative Commons, via Unsplash.